Just Believe
by A.L.S.O
Summary: (ch 2 up) Satine sleeps with the Duke and Christian flees in jealousy, stranding and leaving Satine to become the Duchess of Monroth. Ten years later, when the two meet again, can they forgive each other for the mistakes that were made?
1. Life Goes On

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Just Believe

Chapter 1 - Life Goes On

A/N: Another crappy "soap opera-y" story from me. I'm hoping this one will be slightly happier than L'amour Fou, but I'm not promising anything.

"I'm sorry, Christian," Satine gasped quietly, running up the stairs towards Christian's garret. "I'm so sorry, so sorry."

Her face was damp with tears and her heart beat loudly in her ears. An overwhelming desire came over her to be with her aficionado and she stumbled in that longing; Chocolat reached forward and with broad, strong arms helped her up the rest of the stairs.

"Christian, I couldn't!" Satine gave once last cry as she threw the door open to Christian's. The familiar room greeted her, but his handsome face did not. Instead a small figure sat on the edge of his bed, a bottle of Absinthe in hand. "Where's Christian?" she asked Toulouse.

"He's weft."

Those straightforward words shattered her. She fell to the floor, her worst fear confirmed: Christian had left her. Chocolat reached forward to comfort her but she lashed out at him.

"Don't touch me!" she yelled. "Just--just don't touch me!"

He backed away and muttered, "Sorry, Mademoiselle Satine," before leaving.

Toulouse averted his gaze, taking a swig of Absinthe. Tears pricked at his eyes as the heart wrenching sobs of the Sparkling Diamond broke through every barrier he tried to place between them; there was no escaping the grief she felt, not even with the assistance of ignorance.

"Pwease Satine," he choked out. "Pwease stop."

Her bawling filled his senses, echoing around him, higher than even the blaring music that was starting up at the club: they were celebrating, Satine slept with the Duke and the Rouge was again the Bohemians home. Her body trembled on the floor, the power of crying making her quiver in her anguish. And suddenly Toulouse was overcome with anger; he wanted to stand and shake her vehemently until she was silenced. But he couldn't: he loved her like a sister, and he could not betray her in her darkest hour.

"Stop cwying, Satine, pwease," he said quietly, hopping off the bed and hobbling towards her. "Cwying will do you no good. Tewwible things happen, but that is wife, and we all need to wive it."

Satine ignored him.

"Where did he go? He couldn't have gotten far! Perhaps I can still catch him!"

Toulouse smiled gently at her fierce determination, and fell to his knees to envelope her in a hug. "He woves you," he whispered. "Christian woves you more than anything, but his heawt was bwoken. He was angwy, confused, scawed, and his jeawousy dwove him to do things he will soon wegwet."

"He has to come back, he has to." Satine sat on her haunches, hugging herself as she rocked back and forth. Music poured through the windows and shouts of raucous partying could be heard over the tunes; and as much as Satine hated having a part of it, she was the one who started it all. She cupped her face with her hands, ashamed that she ever had _any_thing to do with the Duke. "I've done such a horrible thing."

As much as Toulouse hated admitting it, she was right. She had done a terrible thing. "It will be awight. Just give it time, it will be awight."

"Nothing will be alright, Toulouse," Satine muttered. "I've slept with the Duke. Christian has left me. How can everything be alright?"

Toulouse was silent. He doubted she would ever be as happy again as when she was with Christian; he made everything seem alright to her, and without him, she was left to wallow in the darkness. "Tew me what happened," he said instead.

A fresh wave of tears enveloped Satine. She was blinded by the watery sheets cascading from her eyes, and the glowing light of the room vanished in a blur. Her heart beat loudly; in her chest, her throat, her ears. Pain was all she knew.

"I saw C-Christian from the balcony. He was there and--oh God did he look hurt. My heart broke just looking at him. But I had a duty, Toulouse, and I promised to live up to it. A-after I was f-finished Chocolat came and collected me and I realized my mistake. What have I done?"

"Just bewieve," Toulouse reassured, squeezing her hand to put her at ease. "Just bewieve and everything will be awight." He stood and leaning on his walking stick, he made for the door. Just before he left, he said quietly, "He will come back."

Satine wasn't sure what was louder: the pounding of her heart or of the band as the Bohemians and whores showed their excitement. Then she leaned over and retched, sick mentally and physically, knowing what she did.

"I heard he sang a lullaby," she tried to sing, but it came out more of a weak croak, chocked by her tears. "I heard he sang if from his heart. When I found out, thought I would die, because that lullaby was mine."

Christian's face swam in front of her. He was so godly handsome, with his charming smile giving away his most naïve secrets, and still bestowing him with an enchanting enigmatic air. She reached out for him, but he disappeared like a sand castle being washed away by the rising tide.

"I heard he sealed it with a kiss; he gently kissed her cherry lips," she continued to sing. "I found that so hard to believe, because his kiss belonged to me. How could an angel break my heart?"

The stars glittered like thousands of diamonds across a velvet cloth, and tormented Satine with memories of the past.

"Why didn't he catch my falling star? I wish I didn't wish so hard… maybe I wished our love apart."

With her last effort, Satine pulled herself up and wiped away the tears from her cheeks. Toulouse was right: life had to go on. She gave one last look around the room, chocked back a threatening sob, and opened the door, whispering, "How could an angel break my heart?" before she left forever.

Even then, a stubborn voice inside her head insisted: _He will come back_.

A huge banner reading "Happy 10th Wedding Anniversary, Duke and Duchess of Monroth!" was pinned high on one wall. Eight golden chandeliers hung from the sculptured ceiling, and the gilded walls gleamed in the soft light. The patterned dance floor was waiting to welcome its awaited company, and dozens of tables sat around the ballroom, laden with gold silverware and a dowry for each guest.

"Everything looks magnificent, darling," said the Duke in his nasally voice.

The Duchess clinging to her arm nodded in agreement. She was of an extravagant beauty; her hair was long and a deep blood red. Her passionate blue eyes were framed by dark lashes, and she held the air of one having a sultry past. She obtained natural grace and held herself proud, her head high; she was indeed born to be someone of power and riches.

"Thank you, my dear Duke," she replied, and even her voice was soft and musical. "I worked hard to create the perfect party for the perfect husband."

She flashed a smile and batted her eyelashes. Ten years of doing so had gained her anything she wanted; she had complete power over the Duke. Anything she wanted, she had; anything she asked for, she received; anything she bade anyone do, happened. Her life seemed perfect.

"I'm sorry, but you must excuse me," she said after a few more moments of admiring the grandeur. "It is about time for me to start preparing myself."

She gently kissed him on his cheek, which took all those long ten years to be able to do without flinching. The Duke nodded, though disappointed she had to leave, and watched her as she trailed daintily up the ornate stairs. From there she walked swiftly down a hall and into her private boudoir.

A fire was already lit and the room was gently warm. She padded into her luxurious powder room and removed her large flower hat, then washed her face to clear herself of her makeup. Drying herself with a fluffy towel, she let her hair hang loose and stripped of her dress, standing in front of the mirror in her undergarments. And there, out of the gloom from the dim lights, staring blankly back at her reflection, was the old Satine she hid with makeup and money to transfigure into the Duchess.

"Miss?" Georgia, Satine's personal maid, knocked softly on the door and entered after hearing a quick 'Come in'. "Would you like me to run the water for you, Miss?"

"Yes, thank you," Satine nodded.

Georgia departed for the larger bathroom, leaving Satine to collect her thoughts. She turned back to the mirror and frowned at the reflection. The Duchess was so much more grand and spectacular than the Sparkling Diamond, but her façade was stronger and definitely more tiring, not only physically but mentally.

"Your bath is ready, Miss."

Satine pulled off the rest of her clothes and covered herself with a bathrobe before stepping out of the room. She moved to another door and into the bathroom, her robe falling to her ankles, and slipped into the white tub.

A gray sheet of rain enveloped the train and for a fleeting second Christian James wished to be back in Paris, with endless days of blue skies and the warm sun, instead of rainy, gloomy England. But just as swift as the thought came to him, it was discarded, because Christian made Paris become a part of the past when he left Montmartre.

"Could I offer you a drink, sir?"

Christian looked up to see a man in a suit pushing a cart of assorted drinks and food. "No thank you, I'm fine." The man moved on and Christian turned back to stare out the window. Dreary landscapes passed under drab skies as the rain poured endlessly, and he sat memorized until he was interrupted once again.

"Hey, Chris," said Susan, Christian's sister, taking her seat next to him. Ever since his heart had been broken, she had become his companion and best friend, and they were currently returning from a vacation in the country together.

"What took so long?" he asked, finally turning his gaze away from the window. "I thought you were only going to the bathroom."

"Well, I was, or at least until I saw this good looking guy on my way back."

Christian laughed and rolled his eyes. "And you were talking to him this whole time?"

"Uh huh," she stated proudly. "And look!" She pulled out a lavish invitation and waved it in front of him. "I'm invited to this big ball-thingy going on in York! Something about an anniversary, he said. He works for the guy who's throwing the ball and said I could come with a guest. Want to join me?"

"I don't know," Christian hesitated. "I haven't been to a party in so long."

"Oh, come on! It'll be loads of fun. And besides, you can take me out to buy a new dress!"

"Great," he muttered sarcastically, earning himself a playful slap on the shoulder.

"Really, it'll be good for you. Besides, Roger--he's the guy--made me promise to save him a dance. Can't let the poor boy down, now can I?" She grinned widely before settling back in her seat.

"I guess," Christian muttered, and turned his stare back to the droning rain.

A/N: Well.. what did ya think? If it's too stupid I won't continue, I'll let you be the judge of that. And if you didn't guess, the party Christian is going to _is_ the one the Duke and Satine are holding.


	2. The Anniversary Party

A/N: *big cheesy grin* Thirteen reviews so far! Thanks so much for all the reviews guys. I wasn't going to post this today, but I thought I'd get this chapter out soon so I don't get death by cookies.

And to answer "?????": Christian is actually 22 in the movie, and I figured that out by reading the old version of the scripts. So he's only thirty-two in my story.. only a year older than he is in real life. And Satine didn't leave Christian.. sorry if I didn't make it clear enough, but Christian was "driven mad by jealousy" so he left Montmartre, and Satine had it in her heart that he would come back.. but he never did, so she had no other choice but to marry the Duke. I don't know what you mean abut "making words for the song".. I didn't make it up, if that's what you mean. That's exactly how I found the lyrics from a lyrics site. Just thought I'd clear that up. J 

WARNING: This chapter was BADLY written. I've seemed to come down with a BAD case of Writer's Block. Oh no..

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Just Believe

Chapter 2 - The Anniversary Party

"Susan, come _on_!" Christian called up the stairs, checking his watch. "We're going to be late if you don't hurry!"

"Calm yourself, I'm coming!" she yelled back. He could hear her footsteps in the hall above him before she began her way down the stairs, lighting up Christian's face with a smile.

"You look beautiful," he said, extending his arm for her to take.

"Thanks. You don't look half bad yourself." She smiled and took his arm, being led out to the awaiting carriage.

"So where's this thing being held anyway?" Christian asked, clambering into the coach after her.

"Not sure, it says on the invitation. Must be big, though, because it's being held by a duke."

Christian paled. "A-a what?"

"A duke."

"Oh. T-that's what I thought you said." He turned to the window, tears threatening to spill. The memories pressed in on him and he shut his eyes tightly as if to block them away. But they were too strong… pleasant, dreadful, depressing: all memories he could not forget.

"Memories," he sang quietly to himself, eyes still closed, welcoming the blackness. "Pressed between the pages of my mind. Memories… sweetened through the ages just like wine. Quiet thoughts come floating down and settle softly to the ground, like golden autumn leaves around my feet. I touched them and they burst apart with sweet memories."

His eyes snapped open, the black becoming a beautiful spring scenery. The trees were green and lush, the sky blue and bright and filled with chirping birds, though starting to be colored with pastels as the sun began to set. It had been a beautiful day; much like the ones he used to spend with--

"Sweet memories. Of holding hands and red bouquets; and twilight trimmed in purple haze; and laughing eyes and simple ways; and quiet nights and gentle days with you. Memories… pressed between the pages of my mind. Memories… sweetened through the ages just like wine. Memories, memories…"

Christian looked at his sister who was chatting happily with the carriage driver. She rambled on endlessly to the old, near-seventy, balding man about the latest spring fashions as he nodded, pretending to be interested.

Susan's grace and pride reminded him more of _her_, the nameless angel, every day. He sighed, allowing those aching memories to overwhelm him, and whispered, "Sweet memories…"

Satine's eyes brimmed with tears.

"_Suddenly I get this feeling_

My mind draws a blank

My hands are slightly shaking

My heart begins to race

I feel like I'm losing control

I'm nervous inside and out

I have an unexplainable feeling

I wish I could figure this out

These butterflies inside of me

Keep fluttering all throughout

I thought they were gone for good

I didn't know they could come out

It must be the way

You get to me like you do

The way you make me feel

The way I love you like I do…"

"Miss?"

She jumped at the sound of Georgia, and hastily stuffed Christian's poem in a drawer of her vanity. "C-come in," she called, quickly drying her eyes.

The door opened a crack and Georgia's head peeked in. "Your dress is ready, Miss."

"Bring it in, please."

Georgia obeyed and stepped into the room, holding it up to show Satine. It was absolutely stunning. It was white, trimmed in gold and a mix of pale blues, pinks, lavenders, and greens. The bosom was intricately designed and the hem was layered with patterned lace. A small gold diadem laid delicately in Georgia's hand, decorated with tiny blue sapphires. 

"Gorgeous!" Satine cried breathlessly.

"The Duke had it made specially for you, Miss. Your anniversary present."

"Wonderful! Could you set it on the bed and help me with my hair? Thank you."

A great deal later, Satine was finally ready. She had insisted she wore her hair down, despite the fact that the strict fashion was quite the opposite, and the gold circlet crowned her head. The dress was definitely fit to flaunt her figure, and if it had appeared beautiful before, it was nothing compared to how Satine looked in it.

She turned to the full-length mirror and eyed the dress; she still couldn't believe how magnificent it was. "How do I look?" She twirled around to show Georgia, smiling widely as the bottom folds swished round her ankles.

"Never have you looked more beautiful, Miss," Georgia said, tears in her eyes. She pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose roughly.

"Thank you, Georgia." Satine enveloped her in a hug, patting her back softly. "Really, no need to cry."

"S-sorry I'm getting so worked up, Miss," Georgia sobbed, pulling back and drying herself. "I'm just very happy for you and your husband. Congratulations."

Satine smiled again. She truly was content; the Duke, despite his looks and irritating voice, was a wonderful husband. Over the years her affection of him grew, or at least came into existence, and though she did not love him, she was completely satisfied being with him.

"If you could please excuse me now, Georgia, I need some time alone."

Satine turned back to the mirror once she left, tears brimming in her eyes. Of course she was content! She had everything she could have ever dreamt of! But content was as far as that fulfillment went; not happy, never happy… only content.

"Oh, Christian," she sighed, the tears spilling forth and smudging her makeup. "Why did you ever leave me?" She pulled out another poem and settled back, being completely engulfed by the evocative words that seemed so strange to her… that time was so long ago, _too_ long ago, and love no longer seemed something she was acquainted with.

The mansion resembled a vast castle more than anything, Christian decided as he made his way up the lantern-lit stairs to the welcoming front doors. The steps were thronged with people making their way to the entrance, luckily with enough manners so no one was shoved about. The sky was a mixture of red and oranges as the last sliver of the sun slowly set behind the hills, and a cool breeze was beginning to start up.

"Oh, I'm so nervous!" Susan whispered beside him, ringing her hands and biting her lip.

"Why's that?" Christian asked.

"The Duke and Duchess always greet their guests at the front door. What if I fall flat on my face right in front of the Duchess? How embarrassing!"

Christian laughed. "Calm down, I'm sure you'll be plenty graceful."

"If you say--"

"Hello, milady."

Both Christian and Susan whipped around to come face-to-face with a pale-haired freckled boy about Susan's age. He bowed deeply before stepping forward, a broad grin on his face.

"Roger!" she cried happily.

"So glad you could come, Susan."

"Please, join us."

With Roger on one arm and Christian on the other, and a huge smile on her face, Susan ascended up the stairs towards the Duke and Duchess.

"Good evening, thank you for coming," Satine repeated for the hundredth time. Her cheeks were beginning to ache from smiling so much, and she asked the Duke if he could come help her with some last minute plans. A doorman was placed at the front to greet the rest of the guests.

As Satine wondered gracefully around with her husband, nodding and smiling and adding polite phrases with her gestures to all the already arrived guests, she couldn't help but laugh inwardly at all the stares she was receiving. Most women had worn their hair tied back in a Recamier Coiffure, the Duchess' favorite style, and when they saw her hair was down they were completely aghast. They were humiliated, and also rather surprised that she had her hair _down_. No one did that anymore! Satine could have cared less… she was the one who set the trends in her town, anyway.

Christian was just as relieved as Susan when they weren't confronted by the Duke or Duchess at the doors, for even Christian's palms had become sweaty as they neared closer and closer. But he was also admittedly a little disappointed; he had wanted to see if all duke's were as ugly and annoying as--

"Chris!"

"Huh?"

"Look!"

Christian looked up from the floor and gasped. The _opulence_, the _magnificence_, the _sumptuousness_ of the room--it was all mind-blowing. Most had already taken seats at tables absolutely gleaming with all the gold cutlery. The chandeliers were lit and bright--the orchestra playing soft and comfortingly--the gentle murmurs of conversation humming with the music--the extravagant decorations--Christian's head swam. It was all so majestic and ostentatious, and it took his breath away.

But about an hour later Christian was growing restless. Susan had gone off dancing with Roger, and the rest of his table talked about boring things such as business matters and politics… nothing he was interested in. He was still itching with curiosity to see the Duke and Duchess, but the ballroom was so packed with people, he had little chance to see them unless he was actually walking around. He tried to ask one of the people sitting at his table, but they didn't give him a chance to speak, and he didn't want to interrupt.

"Yes?"

_Finally_, Christian thought, irritated after having to wait nearly twenty minutes before someone noticed him.

"Do any of you know where the Duchess is?"

"She's by the orchestra talking with some members of the government."

Christian thanked them and left. Even though he found everything looking spectacular, the glamour eventually wore off and he was stuck with utterly _boring_ people. Following the mans information, he wound his way through the tables and guests until he found the orchestra. There was a large crowd gathered off to the right, and he had to ask someone nearby, "Which of that company is the Duchess?"

"The one with the long red hair."

Christian flinched. Even when he saw red hair on no one in particular, it always brought back more of those haunting memories. When he used to run his hands through it--bury his face in the silkiness--adore its scent as he kissed--

He turned nonetheless, and saw who the guest spoke of. She wore a white dress and her radiant hair hung loosely down over her shoulders--she wasn't facing him, but even then he could tell she was gorgeous.

Gathering himself together, for he was nervous again and his sweaty palms were showing it, he began his way over to the red-haired Duchess.

Satine plastered on a smile, occasionally nodding and saying, "Yes, yes, I agree", though she really didn't understand anything being said to her. She grew up at the Moulin Rouge, of course she knew nothing about political affairs!

"Yes, that is exactly what I thought!" she added as the man speaking looked pointedly at her for her opinion; and finally she had enough of their boring topics. "I'm very sorry, but I need to go see my husband for a moment. Please excuse me."

Before Satine could turn away, she felt someone staring at her; of course she was used to it, but this gaze felt different… there was something very familiar about it, as if she could sense who was looking at her.

And quite suddenly her heart was beating loudly, even over the sound of the orchestra, pounding louder and faster with each footstep the onlooker took. Her blood was rushing to her head and she was earning herself several stares.

"I-I'm fine," she told the woman who had come up to her, asking if she was all right. "I just need to sit that's all." She refused the seat she was offered though, but instead moved slightly to the left so she was leaning on the platform the orchestra was stationed on.

Whoever it was, was drawing closer and soon she felt the stranger hovering behind her. She could tell he or she was nervous and decided to speak first, and with one last deep breath, she turned around to face her observer.

A/N: I have absolutely _no_ idea where I'm going with this story. Help? Any suggestions? Sorry this chapter was so badly written… like I said, I've caught Writer's Block.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Baz Luhrmann

Songs/Poems Used:

"Memories" by Mac Davies

From last chapter, which I forgot to add, "How Could an Angel Break My Heart?" by Toni Braxton

"Butterflies" (the poem) by Mandy Marie Fogelman


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